King’s beloved nephew as well as commander of his armies.
Yelling in the distance caught my ear. It came from the west, toward the church ruins. I watched four to six distant men move lethargically across the wet grass. They raised their fists and shouted angrily at one another. One of them saw me and pointed. Desperate eyes sunk deep in their heads, they all shifted their path and began to run toward us.
With a ragged intake of breath, I pushed Peg toward the house and raced around the corner to the stable entrance. I slid my sword from its saddle sheath, went back out, secured the stable door, and fled into the house.
“Thomas. Get up,” I cried. The door banged shut behind me.
“Damnation,” Peg said. She threw the curtains aside. “What do they want?”
The first of them turned in through the gate.
“Whatever they can carry away. Maybe the house itself,” came Thomas’ low voice behind us. “I told you Roundheads and some homeless Bolton scum were breaking in to local homes, looting and killing. They probably want the house to barricade themselves in, unless they’re rampaging soldiers.” Still in the wrinkled clothes he had slept in, he jerked a board off the closed-off door that led to the stable. “We must get to the horses and escape. Help me open this.”
“Ye never should have boarded this up in the first place,” Peg scolded. She pulled uselessly at the larger plank below the small one Thomas had already ripped off. Peg looked back at me and stared, her face slack with surprise. “What are ye doing?”
“It’s too late for that,” I said to Thomas, who heaved at the second board on the door. I hefted my sword until I found the best handhold.
At that moment the door burst open and three men rushed in, one with a matchlock musket that he must have stolen from a soldier, for these were not well-equipped military types, as Thomas had suggested, but ragged local men, starving and threatening to kill to get what they needed.
The lead man was huge, his round face bearded. He had little eyes and a projecting mouth, like a bear’s. He laughed when he saw me with the sword extended toward him.
Movement stopped. Despite my wobbly knees, another inch closer to any one of us, and he would laugh no more, for I would take off whatever got in the way, be it his arm or his hairy head.
The bear-faced man lifted his musket, but had to lower it again to find the lit cord. He found the smoking cord, but not quickly enough, for Thomas, who had moved close to me when the looters came in, wrenched the musket away from him, yelling at the top of his voice.
“Out, get out,” he screamed. He flipped the heavy gun and, using the reinforced stock as a club, knocked the closest man to him in the head. The man fell backwards in the doorway. Thomas’ eyes few wide open as though he just realized what he had done. He cringed and backed away.
“Give us food and we leave you be,” someone squealed in the cramped crowd in the doorway.
The bear-faced man moved aside and stayed where he was. I advanced a step, brandishing my sword, and covered Thomas’ retreat. Peg glared at Thomas, grabbed Mrs. Reedy’s wooden mallet off the hutch, and wailing like a banshee, chased the crowd out of the house. She ran right over the man still prone in the doorway. He must have been stunned, for he jumped up after being trampled and ran off behind them. Thomas, who would not be belittled by a woman, maybe especially Peg, took a wild swing of the musket and followed her out the door, leaving me alone to deal with the disarmed, bear-faced mongrel.
He lowered his shaggy head at me, and I swung at him, but he jumped back beyond my reach. Pacing closer, I went to swing again, but my toe caught on one of the open spaces between the floor boards. The floor pitched up into my face.
“What’s a girl like you doin’ with a fine sword like this anyways?” He caught me and wrenched the sword away. “I have somethin’ much better
Yelling in the distance caught my ear. It came from the west, toward the church ruins. I watched four to six distant men move lethargically across the wet grass. They raised their fists and shouted angrily at one another. One of them saw me and pointed. Desperate eyes sunk deep in their heads, they all shifted their path and began to run toward us.
With a ragged intake of breath, I pushed Peg toward the house and raced around the corner to the stable entrance. I slid my sword from its saddle sheath, went back out, secured the stable door, and fled into the house.
“Thomas. Get up,” I cried. The door banged shut behind me.
“Damnation,” Peg said. She threw the curtains aside. “What do they want?”
The first of them turned in through the gate.
“Whatever they can carry away. Maybe the house itself,” came Thomas’ low voice behind us. “I told you Roundheads and some homeless Bolton scum were breaking in to local homes, looting and killing. They probably want the house to barricade themselves in, unless they’re rampaging soldiers.” Still in the wrinkled clothes he had slept in, he jerked a board off the closed-off door that led to the stable. “We must get to the horses and escape. Help me open this.”
“Ye never should have boarded this up in the first place,” Peg scolded. She pulled uselessly at the larger plank below the small one Thomas had already ripped off. Peg looked back at me and stared, her face slack with surprise. “What are ye doing?”
“It’s too late for that,” I said to Thomas, who heaved at the second board on the door. I hefted my sword until I found the best handhold.
At that moment the door burst open and three men rushed in, one with a matchlock musket that he must have stolen from a soldier, for these were not well-equipped military types, as Thomas had suggested, but ragged local men, starving and threatening to kill to get what they needed.
The lead man was huge, his round face bearded. He had little eyes and a projecting mouth, like a bear’s. He laughed when he saw me with the sword extended toward him.
Movement stopped. Despite my wobbly knees, another inch closer to any one of us, and he would laugh no more, for I would take off whatever got in the way, be it his arm or his hairy head.
The bear-faced man lifted his musket, but had to lower it again to find the lit cord. He found the smoking cord, but not quickly enough, for Thomas, who had moved close to me when the looters came in, wrenched the musket away from him, yelling at the top of his voice.
“Out, get out,” he screamed. He flipped the heavy gun and, using the reinforced stock as a club, knocked the closest man to him in the head. The man fell backwards in the doorway. Thomas’ eyes few wide open as though he just realized what he had done. He cringed and backed away.
“Give us food and we leave you be,” someone squealed in the cramped crowd in the doorway.
The bear-faced man moved aside and stayed where he was. I advanced a step, brandishing my sword, and covered Thomas’ retreat. Peg glared at Thomas, grabbed Mrs. Reedy’s wooden mallet off the hutch, and wailing like a banshee, chased the crowd out of the house. She ran right over the man still prone in the doorway. He must have been stunned, for he jumped up after being trampled and ran off behind them. Thomas, who would not be belittled by a woman, maybe especially Peg, took a wild swing of the musket and followed her out the door, leaving me alone to deal with the disarmed, bear-faced mongrel.
He lowered his shaggy head at me, and I swung at him, but he jumped back beyond my reach. Pacing closer, I went to swing again, but my toe caught on one of the open spaces between the floor boards. The floor pitched up into my face.
“What’s a girl like you doin’ with a fine sword like this anyways?” He caught me and wrenched the sword away. “I have somethin’ much better
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